


all the perfect things

by slytherincosette



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Humor, Avengers Tower, Domestic Avengers, I do what I want, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kid Fic, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Psychological Trauma, au after CATWS because fuck canon lives, hydra sucks what else is new, i'll add tags as i go, steve and bucky are dads surprise, this is the most self indulgent thing i've ever written here u go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherincosette/pseuds/slytherincosette
Summary: The girl blinks. Then, as if reading off a teleprompter, she recites, “I am the genetic combination of Captain Steven Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes. I was created to be the perfect soldier. With their genetics and HYDRA’s training, I will be unstoppable.”“What the fuck?” Tony asks,yells, really.“That’s why she has your eyes,” Steve says faintly.-Or, where Steve and Bucky find out HYDRA created the genetic equivalent of their daughter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you might feel like you've read this before, and that's because i posted the first two chapters of this story like three months ago and then deleted it because i wanted to make it better. changes have been made and now i'm happy with it, so it's back up :) 
> 
> this is an au basically from CATWS onward because uhhhhhh canon is depressing. just go with it it's fine.

It’s supposed to be a stealth mission, nothing more. Just gathering intel at an abandoned HYDRA base. Bucky’s only just recently passed the mental health eval allowing him to do field work by the skin of his teeth--Steve hadn’t wanted him in the field _at all_ , but Bucky had never been one to sit back and watch. “I wanna help,” he’d told Steve, voice raw, eyes glued to the floor, “I gotta do _something_. I hurt so many people, Steve. I gotta _help_ , if I can.”

Steve had wanted to shake him, tell Bucky that it wasn’t him that did all those awful things, that he didn’t need to make up for a goddamn _thing_ , but it wouldn’t have changed anything. So Steve had sighed, nodded, and moved out of his way. Figuratively and metaphorically. So many people had taken away Bucky’s right to choose, and Steve sure as hell wasn’t going to be another one.

Bucky’s first mission, at Steve’s request, was supposed to be...well, it was supposed to be easy. Go in with Steve and Natasha, gather up whatever information they could find from a recently found abandoned HYDRA facility, and go the hell home. He’d even been worried that the Hydra base itself would trigger Bucky, but Bucky had been adamant that he’d be _fine, Steve, Jesus Christ_.

But like everything is Steve’s godforsaken life, it doesn’t quite go according to plan.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony crackles over the comms, “How’s your pet assassin doing?”

“Fuck off, Stark,” Bucky grumbles back, thumbing through a dusty file cabinet. He squints at a manilla folder before tossing it wordlessly to Natasha, who tucks it into a black backpack. 

“He speaks! Soon, we’ll be getting full sentences that don’t sound vaguely threatening!”

Steve sighs, annoyed, running his fingers along a counter top. Glancing around, he sees Bucky muttering absently in Russian over an open file. Natasha snorts, fiddling with a long-dead computer. Steve’s eyes settle on a long corridor behind her, leading to a door that looks almost like a bank vault. “Guys,” he says, pointing. 

Bucky looks immediately, letting the file drop unceremoniously onto the floor. His eyes narrow. “That looks...familiar,” he says, and his hand goes to his gun. Steve is immediately on edge.

Natasha’s eyebrows furrow minutely, but her face is an otherwise blank mask. She sets off down the hallway without so much as a wave at Steve, but he follows regardless. Bucky is just a step behind. The vault is rusted but cracked open, as if the last person out left in a hurry. Steve can’t help but wonder what was so important that it had to be kept locked up like this, and who was careless enough to leave it exposed.

“This looks like,” Bucky pauses, clears his throat, “This looks like where they kept me, when I wasn’t out...y’know, committing murder.”

“That wasn’t you,” Steve says, like a broken record. He can practically hear Bucky’s eye roll from behind. Steve almost laughs, before the severity of what Bucky said creeps into his bones and settles there. “Where they…”

“Froze and wiped me, yeah,” Bucky finishes. Steve reaches behind himself blindly, fingers curling around the sleeve of Bucky’s uniform. He hears Bucky let out a breath.

“Let’s hope there aren’t any soldiers waiting in this vault,” Natasha murmurs. She touches her ear, says, “Stark, stand-by,” and pulls the vault open.

“Copy that,” Tony says cheerfully, but Steve can barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. In the middle of the room, covered in cobwebs and dust, is a cryo tank. 

Bucky sucks in a harsh breath. “No fuckin’ way,” he whispers, pushing past Steve to get a better look. Natasha presses a hand to his chest; a warning.

“Stay,” she says, and Bucky holds his hands up in surrender. She drops her hand, instead pulling out her gun and training it on the tank. Slowly, she steps forward. The tank hums, the sound filling up the room so completely that Steve can barely hear himself breath. Whatever’s in there, it’s frozen solid.

Natasha lowers her weapon once she’s satisfied that nothing will come bursting out of the tank, guns blazing. She reaches out slowly and wipes some of the frost away from the glass window. There’s a second where she says nothing, where Steve lets himself think that maybe, whatever was once in that tank is long gone and they’ve panicked over nothing. Then, Natasha says, quietly, “Steve, James. You should see this.”

Bucky sighs, heavily. “It’s always somethin’,” he mutters. He and Steve make their way over, peering over Natasha’s head and into the cryo.

For a second, it’s like looking into a mirror, if that mirror was also a time machine. Then, he takes in the long blonde hair, the tiny face, the nose and chin that don’t quite belong to him, and Steve’s brain immediately shits itself. There’s a small figure--a girl, to be exact--frozen inside the tank. And she looks like _him_. “That’s a kid,” Steve says, dumbly.

“That kid looks like _Steve_ ,” Bucky blinks wildly. “God, she’s...she looks like he did, when we were kids. Tiny little thing, like you could break him in half,” he says, faintly. Steve swallows tightly.

“Wait, there’s a kid?” Tony asks, alarmed. He is promptly ignored.

“Maybe it’s just me, but,” Natasha begins, and Steve’s not a fan of her tone. She catches herself, shakes her head, and says, “Nevermind.”

Bucky, forgoing any type of manners as per usual, shoves past the both of them to start fiddling with the control panel near the door of the tank. Natasha looks vaguely affronted, even though Steve knows that if she hadn’t allowed the push, Bucky would be on the floor right now with the breath knocked out of him. “What are you doing?” Steve asks, voice urgent.

“She’s a kid,” Bucky says, like Steve’s an idiot. “We gotta get her out of there.”

Natasha takes a cautious step forward. “She could be dangerous, James. You don’t know what they might have done, what they might have trained her to do.”

Bucky huffs out a frustrated noise. “I know exactly what they might have done to her,” he bites out, continuously pressing random buttons until the tank makes several loud beeping noises. Steve watches slowly as the number depicting the temperature of the tank starts to rise. 

“She’s defrosting,” Steve says, eyes wide. Natasha swear in Russian and points her gun at the door.

“Should I come in there?” Tony asks, sounding a little uncertain.

“No, stay in the quinjet,” Natasha barks out, stepping in front of Steve like she can protect him if the girl jumps out and decides to kill them all. Bucky falls back, next to Natasha. Steve takes a moment to feel annoyed because his weapon of choice is literally a _shield_ , okay, if anyone should be defending anyone, it’s him. 

“I feel like I should definitely come in there,” Tony says.

“If you hear the sound of us getting our asses kicked by a five year old, come join the party,” Bucky says dryly. His voice sounds relaxed; his stance is anything but. Steve takes a moment to wonder why he ever thought this would be easy. 

“That’s a very specific sound you just described there, Barnes, what the fuck is--”

There’s a hissing sound and a loud, final beep. The door to the cryo tank swings open, revealing a very small girl who looks almost exactly like Steve. Almost, because there are achingly familiar features that _don't_ belong to Steve, but that stir something foggy in the back of his mind. They all stand still as statues and with bated breath, guns pointed at this tiny wisp of a thing who looks like a slight breeze could knock her off her feet. It’s so silent you could hear a pin drop, until she opens her eyes.

And oh, fuck. Steve would know those eyes anywhere.

“What the fuck?” Steve whispers, feeling his own eyes widen, “What the fuck?”

“Cap, what’s going on?” Tony asks, unhelpfully. He is, again, ignored.

The little girl blinks at them, head cocking to the side in obvious assessment. “You are not my usual handlers,” she observes, voice light and high. 

“What is your name?” Natasha asks, relaxing minutely. Her voice is softer, tone more even. 

The girl watches them, seemingly unaffected by the guns pointed at her little body. God, she’s so small. “I do not have a name. I am usually referred to as the Asset by my handlers.” she answers obediently. Bucky flinches but remains otherwise stoic. The girl’s eyes flick to him. “Are you my new handlers?” she asks, devoid of emotion.

“No,” Bucky says, voice hoarse. A flash of confusion crosses her face, but she covers it quickly. “How old are you?”

“Eight years old,” the girl says. 

“You look small, to be eight.” Steve says, nudging Bucky to the side. Bucky looks haunted, mouthing the word _eight_ to himself a few times. Steve squeezes his shoulder tightly, watches the girl step out of the cryo tank. Her back is soldier straight, chin tipped up.

She is dressed in a black tank top and black shorts and nothing else. Her lips are a pale blue from the cold and her skin is sparkling with ice. Steve itches to grab her and take her out to the warm quinjet where there are jackets and blankets and heat. “I am biologically eight years old,” she repeats, as if maybe Steve didn’t hear her clearly the first time. “Please return me to my handlers so I may prepare for my next mission.”

“No,” Bucky says, stronger this time. 

The girl’s eyes snap to him. Her brows furrow. “You are my new handlers,” she repeats, voice growing slightly uncertain.

“No,” Steve says, aiming for a slightly softer tone than Bucky had taken on, “No, we just want to help you.” 

The girl frowns. “You are here to train me?” she tries, suddenly unsure and wary. Her eyes move from Steve, to Bucky, to Natasha, then back to Steve. Her eyes widen, minute enough that Steve might not have noticed it if he had not been watching very closely, “You look like me.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, quietly, “We’re trying to figure out why.”

The girl blinks. Then, as if reading off a teleprompter, she recites, “I am the genetic combination of Captain Steven Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes. I was created to be the perfect soldier. With their genetics and HYDRA’s training, I will be unstoppable.” 

“What the fuck?” Tony asks, _yells_ , really.

“That’s why she has your eyes,” Steve says faintly. Natasha, for once, looks caught off guard, but she does not lower her gun. 

“Guys, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve says, absently. He’s too busy staring at the near perfect replica of himself, except for the part where she’s got Bucky’s eyes, Bucky’s chin, Bucky’s nose.

“This isn’t real,” Bucky mutters from somewhere beside Steve. “This isn’t real.”

The girl looks slightly offended. “I am real.” She shivers, just once, before going stock still. This sets something off in Steve because he has the sudden, overwhelming urge to kneel in front of her. Which is exactly what he does.

“Steve, get up,” Natasha hisses, “She could be dangerous.”

The girl tilts her chin towards Natasha. “I have been instructed never to attack unless authorized by a handler.” She turns to Steve, now face to face with her near carbon copy. “I am the genetic combination of--”

“Yeah, kid,” Bucky cuts in, voice tight, “We heard you.” She falls silent, staring at Bucky over Steve’s shoulder. He watches her right back, asks, “How is that even possible?”

“Grab as many files as you can,” Steve says, standing abruptly. The little girl flinches, ever so slightly, and Steve wants to smack himself. “I’m sorry, it’s okay,” he says, gently, attempting to smile. She relaxes, just a fraction. He turns to Bucky and Natasha, says, “We’re bringing her back.” Bucky nods, once. Natasha looks like she wants to argue, but Steve holds up a hand. “I know she could be lying. But either way, she’s a kid who looks like she’s about to catch her death and we can’t leave her here.”

“This better not get us all killed,” Natasha mutters under her breath. 

"You saying you couldn't beat an eight year old?" Steve asks, trying for humor and missing by a mile.

Natasha levels him a stern look. "If they did to her what they did to me, then yes."

\--

They get the little girl onto the quinjet with no resistance. Steve offers her a blanket from the safety kit, and she holds it as if she’s never seen one before. “You wrap it around you,” Steve says, miming the action, “It keeps you warm.”

Very slowly, the little girl follows his example. She lets out a tiny breath and lets her cheek rub against the soft material. There’s something like wonder in her eyes. Steve doesn’t let himself think too hard about how awful her life must have been if something as simple as a blanket if a mystery to her.

“So,” Tony says cheerfully, “Seems like getting frozen is a family trait.” Bucky sends Tony a sharp glare that actually makes Tony wince. “Too soon?”

“I do not have a family,” the girl says, finality in her voice.

Tony lets out a breath. “That’s a bummer.”

“We don’t know if she’s ours,” Steve hurries to say, though he knows it's wishful thinking. “I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Tony says dismissively, clapping his hands together. The little girl jumps. “Aw, shit--I mean, shoot, sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Remarkably, Tony’s voice is gentle. “Are you hungry? We have some snacks.”

“Snack do not provide essential nutrients,” the girl says, tonelessly. She pulls the blanket around herself a little tighter. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “I am fed only what is necessary for survival, through here.” She points to a spot on her upper forearm.

“IVs?” Natasha asks, and the girl nods.

“I...do not like feeding,” the girl says, hesitantly, “It hurts.”

“No one is going to stick you with a needle,” Steve says, gently, “You can eat regularly, you know,” he pauses, feeling awkward, “with your mouth.”

The girl frowns. “I do not know how.”

Tony glances away, scratching at the back of his neck. “Jesus, this is depressing.”

“It’s okay,” Steve assures her, “We can teach you. Are you hungry?”

She looks at him for a long moment before shaking her head once. 

Silence falls over the quinjet, only the whir of the engine to play in the background of this weird nightmare Steve can’t wake up from. He glances over at Bucky, who is watching the little girl intently, eyes dark and focused. If this kid really is theirs...they have a lot to talk about. Steve doesn't even know where to begin.

The little girl stares back at Bucky, and there’s something defiant in the way her chin is tilted up. Across the quinjet, Tony snorts loudly. Both the little girl and Bucky break their stare-off to look at him. “She’s gotta be yours,” Tony says, shaking his head, “Look at that. Look at her face! Jesus, that’s a patent James Barnes glare if I ever saw one. And believe you me, I’ve seen my fair share.”

At the same time, Bucky and the little girl turn to meet each other’s eyes once again. There’s something appraising in both of their stares. Steve lets his head fall into his hands, and that’s the position he keeps for the rest of the ride home.

Tony must have sent a message ahead to SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers, because they have a welcome wagon waiting on the roof of the tower when they land. Fury is at the front, arms crossed and face mutinous. Beside him is Agent Hill, looking as poised and professional as always. Behind the two of them are Bruce and, for whatever reason, Peter Parker, who looks as if he’s about to bounce out of his skin.

The jet opens and Tony is the first out, jogging down the ramp and greeting Fury enthusiastically. Natasha makes her way off next, glancing warily between Bucky and Steve, who then turn to look at each other. “Together?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.

Bucky cracks the tiniest of smiles. “Always, you fuckin’ loser.”

“Don’t swear in front of the kid,” Steve complains.

The little girl watches the two of them, eyes filled with caution. “What are you going to do with me?” she asks, sitting up as straight as possible. The blanket falls from around her shoulders, and Steve immediately wants to reach out and readjust it for her.

“I...we don’t exactly know yet,” Steve admits, feeling helpless. At this, she stiffens. Quickly, Steve adds, “Nothing bad. Nothing bad, seriously. We aren’t gonna hurt you.” He takes a step forward, hands out so she can see. Slowly, he kneels in front of her and reaches out, finally adjusting the blankets over her shoulders. She watches his stiffly, face guarded. “I swear to you,” he says, looking her dead in the eyes, _Bucky’s_ eyes, “that no one will hurt you. I will not let them. I promise.”

After a long moment, the little girl nods. “Okay,” she says.

Steve feels his face break into a wide grin against his will. “Okay?” he asks, just to be sure.

She nods again, more resolutely. “Okay.”

Natasha deftly directs Fury and Hill away from them with a charming smile and the offer of refreshments, the slightly menacing tone in her voice leaving no room for argument. Hill grabs Fury by the elbow and leads him inside, making polite conversation with Natasha as they go.

Steve, Bucky, and their recently acquired child end up on the floor that is essentially Tony’s personal hospital, offering free healthcare to Stark employees and patching up the Avengers as needed. Tony leads them into a private room, which looks more like a miniature lab than any doctor’s office Steve has even set foot in. The little girl drags the blanket behind her. Amazingly, she holds onto Steve’s hand. Bucky stands on her other side, glancing warily at all of the machines scattered around the room. “So as you can see,” Tony says, grandly, “I have assembled my top scientists, and between the three of us, we’ll be able to figure out if that delightful ball of vacant stares is actually a product of you two.”

Bucky raises his eyes. “One of your top scientists is seventeen?”

Peter laughs nervously, hands fidgeting. “Sergeant Barnes, sir,” he says, and Steve is immediately charmed by the young man, as always, “I promise I would never do anything to harm your daughter.”

At the word ‘daughter,’ both Steve and Bucky flinch. Peter’s eyes widen, only just realizing what he said. The little girl--their _daughter_ , maybe, Jesus--blinks up at Peter, head cocked to the side. Tony claps both hands onto Peter’s shoulders. “Peter’s been studying under me and Bruce since he was fourteen. Graduated a year early, valedictorian, all that good stuff. Full scholarship to MIT. He’s qualified.” he says, eyes going from Bucky to Steve, almost challenging them to say anything negative to Peter. Peter flushes bright red, a pleased smile making its way onto his face.

“We’re just going to do some simple DNA tests,” Bruce says, gently, from just behind Tony. 

“No needles,” Bucky says suddenly, tone leaving no room for argument.

Bruce’s eyebrows furrow. “Can I ask why?”

Bucky nods his head towards the little girl, who looks back up at him. “Kid doesn’t like needles. So no needles.”

Steve feels a sudden rush of affection towards Bucky, even more so than usual. Which is...a lot of affection.

Peter smiles crookedly, says, “That’s okay, sir, we only have to do a cheek swab to test DNA. No needles required.”

“We should probably do some blood tests to make sure she’s okay, though,” Bruce suggests, looking from Bucky to Tony. The little girl stiffens, leaning ever so slightly against Steve.

Tony sighs like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. “One step at a time, my good Doctor. I don’t know about you, but I’m not trying to go toe-to-toe with an overprotective cyborg dad today. Or ever.”

“Can we maybe stop making dad jokes?” Steve asks, the beginnings of hysteria bubbling in his stomach. 

Bruce, to his credit, looks sympathetic when he says, “It’s a reality you might have to prepare for, Steve.”

Peter reappears in the middle of it all with a cotton swab. With quick glances at Steve and Bucky, he kneels down in front of the little girl--and God, they really need to give her a name, don’t they?--and says, solemnly, “I’m going to tell you everything I’m about to do, okay? So nothing surprises you.” 

He waits a beat. The little girl nods, just a tip of the head, and says, “Yes, sir.”

Peter deflates a little at that. He glances at Bucky, who simply says, “She’s scared. Bad experiences with doctors, and all that.”

“Not scared,” the girl insists, but her shoulders droop a little.

“Well, hey,” Peter says, brightening up a little, “I’m not a doctor. I’m a kid, just like you. I’m just here to help. My name is Pete.”

“Codename: Pete,” the little girl says, matter of fact. Peter looks to Steve, who shrugs a little helplessly.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says, “Codename: Pete. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He holds out his pinky finger, which the little girl stares at blankly. “This is a pinky promise, okay? You wrap your little finger around mine and whatever we promise has to come true. It’s basically a law.”

The little girl narrows her eyes and stares at Peter for a long moment, scrutinizing. Finally, she wraps her tiny finger around his. Peter beams, and holds up a cotton swab.

“See this little puffy thing? I’m going to ask you to open your mouth and I’m gonna poke the inside of your cheek with it, just a little. It might feel a little funny, but it won’t hurt. Is that okay with you?” He waits for her to nod. She glances up at Steve, who nods encouragingly. After a moment, she looks back at Peter and nods resolutely. Peter smiles at her so brightly that she actually cracks a tiny smile in response. “Great! Okay, just open your mouth for me, reaaaaally quick--and done!” He hands the swab to Bruce, who goes off immediately to do...whatever he has to do with it. 

Steve is suddenly, achingly grateful for Peter Parker. And to Tony, for recognizing that not just any doctor will be able to handle a situation like this, no matter how many background checks they’ve had to pass to even step foot on this floor.

“Is that it?” Bucky asks, glancing down at the little girl and then back at Peter. 

“For the DNA?” Peter asks, reaching for a high five from the little girl and not looking at all discouraged when he doesn’t get one, “Yep.”

“You don’t need samples from us?” Steve asks, confused.

“We already have samples of your DNA,” Bruce says absently from his station, not even bothering to look up from his work.

Bucky snorts. “That’s reassuring.”

“I apologize for the interruption, sirs,” JARVIS says, and the little girl jumps about a mile in the air. There’s a pause, and then JARVIS adds, “My apologies, miss. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“The building talks,” Bucky supplies helpfully. The little girl stares at him, hard. Bucky stares back. 

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Director Fury is requesting your presence,” JARVIS says, quieter, like his volume has been turned down. 

The little girl glares at the ceiling. “Compromised?” she asks, turning steele blue eyes on Bucky.

“No,” Bucky tells her, “We’re not bugged.”

She glares harder.

Bucky wordlessly holds out his pinky. After the slightest pause, she takes it. Steve is torn between crying and smiling so hard his face splits.

“Director Fury is rather adamant,” JARVIS adds, almost apologetically. 

“He’s all set up in Pepper’s office. She’s on a business trip until tomorrow,” Tony says offhandedly, waving towards the door, “He’s probably already assumed his most threatening pose in preparation for your conversation.”

“Great,” Steve says, huffing out a breath. “Do we...do we bring her?”

“We, uh,” Peter says, “We were hoping to give her a quick examination. No needles,” he adds quickly, glancing at Bucky with his hands up, “Although that would probably be a good idea, eventually. But it couldn’t hurt to give her a run-of-the-mill pediatric check up to make sure she’s, y’know, healthy.”

Bucky nods, once. “Fine,” he says, and then he looks down at the little girl. “That okay with you?”

“Codename: Pete is kind,” she says matter-of-factly, in lieu of an actual answer. 

Peter beams at her and uses this as an opening, crouching back down to her height. “I’ll tell you everything that’s gonna happen before it does, and if you don’t want to do something, you let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, following Peter towards an examination table. Bucky stiffens immediately at the sight, but Steve grabs at his sleeve.

“It’s just Pete,” Steve murmurs, waiting for Bucky to meet his eyes. When he does, Steve adds, “They’re not going to hurt her.”

Bucky stares after her, watches as she lets Peter lift her onto the table, watches Tony follow them over and ruffle Peter’s hair fondly. After a moment, he breathes out, so quietly that Steve barely hears him, “Do you really think she’s ours?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answers honestly. He doesn’t know if the feeling curling in the pit of his stomach is dread or hope. They feel a little too similar, these days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so happy y'all are enjoying my little story :') thank you for all the comments and kudos!

They walk down a long, sterile hallway, the concerned and slightly betrayed look on the little girl’s face as she’d watched them leave playing on loop in Steve’s head. Logically, he knows that there is literally nowhere safer for her to be than in this tower, surrounded by superhumans and some of the most highly trained intelligence officials in the world, but it doesn’t help to relieve the way his gut twists now that she’s not in his immediate sight. 

They stop, just before the elevator. JARVIS opens it helpfully with a ping. Bucky stands, rigid, facing the wall-length windows that open up to New York City. The sun is setting, now, orange and yellow glowing across Bucky’s face. Steve looks away.

“So, uh,” Steve starts, “Fury’s probably going to want to take her.”

“He’s not takin’ her anywhere,” Bucky says, definitive and terse, “I wouldn’t trust him to take her to the kitchen and make her a fuckin’ sandwich.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Bucky’s face softens. “We usually are.”

Steve swallows, a little tight. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” They stare at each other for a charged moment, the knowledge that they likely have a literal _child_ together throwing off the delicate dynamic they’ve fought like hell to get back. Steve clears his throat, adds, “Just don’t say anything stupid, okay?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, and just like that, it’s okay. This is just another obstacle to overcome together, because that’s just what they do. They fight like hell, and they win. “You’re kidding, right? We both know you’re the one we have to worry about, Captain Asshole.”

Steve pushes him forward, lightly. “Get in the goddamn elevator.”

Bucky throws up a mock salute and says, voice dry as the desert, “Sir, yes, sir.”

“God, you’re the worst.” Steve shakes his head, fighting a smile, and follows Bucky into the elevator. It closes behind them and Steve thinks back to the early days, when Bucky couldn’t go into enclosed spaces without having a full-on panic attack. Steve had spent a lot of time walking up and down stairs. 

They ride in silence, shoulder to shoulder, anchoring each other. The elevator opens up to Pepper’s beautifully decorated office. Fury is behind her desk, head in his hands. Hill leans against the wall behind him, head cocked to the side as she looks between Bucky and Steve. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh. Fury heaves a gigantic, world-weary sigh, and Bucky looks faintly offended. Steve has to agree. 

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes,” Fury greets politely, and uh oh. Proper titles. 

“Director Fury,” Steve replies, trying to keep his voice even. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. He throws a quick glance at Steve before sauntering over to one of the fancy chairs in front of Pepper’s desk, throwing himself down and adjusting until he’s comfortable. After a moment of internal struggle, Steve follows. 

“What can we help you with, sir?” Bucky drawls, emphasizing _sir_ just enough to sound like a jackass. “Hey, Hill,” he adds, sending a lazy smile to Maria. Steve sighs.

The corners of Hill’s mouth quirk up, just a little. “Barnes.”

Fury lets out another sigh and sends a particularly nasty glare at Bucky, which immediately causes Steve’s hackles to rise. “We have something kind of important to deal with, can we hurry this up?” he asks, testily. Bucky tries to hide a snort and fails miserably.

Hill lets her head drop, exasperated, and Fury turns his gaze to Steve. “Of course, what would you like to start with? The fact that you released an enhanced HYDRA soldier from cryo and extracted her without alerting SHIELD, or the fact that she might be a product of your DNA?”

“She’s a kid,” Bucky says immediately, voice dropping dangerously low, “Not a soldier.”

“It certainly wouldn’t be the first time HYDRA trained a child,” Fury counters, and Steve thinks of Nat. “We’ll have to run extensive tests to see what her capabilities are, to make sure she isn’t a danger to--”

“No tests,” Bucky interrupts, leaning forward abruptly in his seat. Steve reaches out and grabs at the hem of Bucky’s shirt, pulling him back. Bucky goes easily, falling back into his seat with a light thud. He looks vaguely murderous, which does not help their case for raising a child. “She’s been through enough, for fuck’s sake.”

Fury looks to Steve, searching for--something, maybe backup, common sense. Steve stares back, jaw set. This isn’t something he’s going to cave on, now or ever. After a moment, Fury looks away, disgruntled. It’s clear he didn’t find what he was looking for.

“Look,” Fury says, sounding exasperated, “All I ask if that you let a SHIELD psychologist evaluate her.” He holds up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth again. “You can watch the whole thing, I don’t care. We just need to be certain she isn’t…”

“Evil?” Bucky asks, arms crossed.

“Brainwashed,” Fury answers, flatly. “You can’t even be sure if she’s lying yet.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Steve says, voice tight. “They left her there, for Christ’s sake. If she was highly trained and valuable, don’t you think they’d take her?”

“Could be a trap,” Fury says, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back in Pepper’s chair, hands clasped. The chair is a pale lavender and Steve takes a little bit of comfort in noticing that Fury looks ridiculous in it. 

“Or she could be our kid,” Bucky bites out. 

“And what, exactly, do you plan to do with her if she’s not?” Fury asks, eyebrows raised.

Steve sits up straighter, looks Fury straight in the eye, and says, “We’re keeping her either way.”

“We are?” Bucky asks, which, right. They probably should have talked about this before storming into Pepper’s office like they had it all figured out.

“Yes,” Steve says defiantly, and then, more quietly and directed at Bucky, “If that’s okay with you…”

“Jesus, ‘course it is, I had a whole speech I was gonna make if you’d said no.”

Steve straightens, chin tilted up. “We’re keeping her either way.”

Fury looks between the two of them, incredulous. “While it’s comforting to see how deeply you’ve thought this through, might I suggest, I don’t know, _thinking this through?_ ” He turns to Bucky, looking as close to apologetic as Fury ever gets, and says, “Barnes, I know you’ve made incredible strides in the past few years, but a kid? You’re not exactly the poster boy for mental health.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath and stares a hole in the floor, hands clenched into fists. Steve stands up abruptly and slams a hand down on the desk. It breaks cleanly in half. “How _dare_ you--”

The elevator dings and Tony bursts out, Bruce at his heels insisting that, “Tony, this isn’t exactly appropriate--”

“It’s a girl!” Tony yells, popping a balloon filled with pink confetti and a ridiculous amount of glitter all over the floor. There’s a pause, and then Tony groans, asks, “Steve, what the hell did you do to my desk?”

“What the hell, Stark?” Barnes growls, shaking glitter off of his foot.  
Tony waving him off dismissively. Behind him, Bruce looks apologetic. “Good news! Or bad news, depending on your stance, I can’t get a great read on the room right now--”

“Steve, Bucky,” Bruce interrupts, gently pushing Tony out of the way. Steve turns around, stands behind Bucky like a sentinel. “The DNA results show that she is indeed a combination of your genetics.”

“You have a daughter,” Tony supplies helpfully, “We have no idea how the fuck that happened, but there’s nothing in there besides you two. No trace of a surrogate, nothing. But we'll figure it out, of course.” 

“This is...not something I’ve ever seen before, personally, but it’s not implausible, considering the standard of today’s technology,” Bruce says, looking sympathetic. Behind them, Fury lets out an impressive streak of curse words. He is ignored.

Bucky is frozen in his seat, only breaking out of his trance when both of his armrests crumble under the weight of his grasp. Distantly, he hears Tony complain about replacing furniture, but Steve’s focus is locked on Bucky.

“DNA aside,” Bruce starts, pushing his glasses farther up his nose nervously, “Don’t feel...like you’re being strong-armed, I suppose, into accepting a position you may not be ready for.”

At that, Bucky looks up and twists around in his seat. “Explain,” Bucky says, frowning.

“I’m saying that, if you choose not to be involved, you could consider yourselves…” Here, Bruce winces, “ _donors_.”

“Sperm donors,” Bucky repeats flatly. Steve lets out an accidental snort, which causes Bucky to turn a knee-weakening smile his way.

“I just meant that you shouldn’t feel pressured into accepting parental responsibility when this was done without your consent,” Bruce rushes to say, holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture. 

“We understand what you’re trying to say,” Steve says, not unkindly, “But she didn’t really get a say in any of this either. And I promised her I’d help her. I intend to keep my word.”

Fury lets his head drop into his hands. “The man just gave you the perfect out, and you’re still too damn noble to take it.”

Steve shrugs, although he does not feel at all nonchalant about _any of this_. He looks to Bucky, helpless. “She’s our kid,” Bucky answers for him, voice tight but sure, “We ain’t no deadbeat dads.”

Tony claps his hands together. “Guess that settles it, then. Fury, Hill, a pleasure as always, but I’m sure you can see yourselves out.” He turns to Steve and Bucky, adds, “Your little gremlin is with Pete, wanna go formally introduce yourselves?”

Hill nods resolutely, shooting Fury a look before walking out the door. Fury sighs again and follows her, grumbling under his breath. Steve and Bucky follow Tony into the elevator. JARVIS chirps a cheery hello and takes them to the common floor, which is supposed to promote “unity” and a “team mentality” or whatever bullshit Tony had spouted off but didn’t fully believe. Steve can’t say he’s not grateful, though. Having someplace safe for Bucky to rehabilitate and relearn himself had been a godsend. While Steve and Sam had been out searching for Bucky, Tony had been busy building onto Steve’s floor to make sure it could accomodate two. Steve’s not sure he’ll ever be able to repay Tony for that.

The little girl--their daughter, holy shit--is sitting with Peter at the coffee table, poking curiously at some crayons like she’s never seen them before. Steves heart aches with the realization that she probably hasn’t. 

Bucky stops short just a few feet into the living room. Steve looks back at him, takes in the pained expression on his face. “Buck,” Steve says, gently.

Bucky shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. He huffs out what could be a laugh, but his face is humorless. “I always thought you’d make a good dad,” he says quietly. Steve takes a step closer. “Thought you’d settle down, probably with Peggy, pop out a couple of kids.”

Steve doesn’t know how to say that settling down with Peggy was never really in the cards without blowing his whole cover, so instead he says, “Funny. I always thought _you’d_ be a great dad. You were always so good with your little sisters. They adored you.”

And it’s true. Steve always figured out of the two of them, Bucky would be the one to get the All-American Dream, white picket fence and 2.5 kids with a beautiful wife who reigned in the wild side of him. Maybe he would have even named a kid after their old Uncle Steve, who died when they were real little because his eggshell body decided to finally call it quits. 

Bucky ducks his head, snapping Steve out of his thoughts. “Before the war, kids were never even a thought. I was perfectly content to look after you the rest of my damn life. And during the war, well…” He pulls a hand through his hair, revealing his face, and Steve hates the suffering he sees there, “Didn’t think I’d survive to see it end. I was half right.”

Steve reaches out and falters. Bucky would have never allowed himself to have what Steve couldn’t. Bucky would have wasted his whole life on Steve if he’d had the chance. And Steve, selfishly, might have let him. 

Bucky lets out a shuddering breath, eyes moving towards the little girl. She knows they’re there, Steve can tell by the way she’d straightened up when they’d walked in, but she seems content to pretend she doesn’t know until they’re ready to announce themselves. “What if Fury was right? I can’t even take care of myself half the time, Steve,” Bucky whispers, “How the hell am I supposed to do right by her?”

“I have all the faith in the world in you, Buck,” Steve tells him, trying to pour as much sincerity in his voice as possible. Bucky needs to know he means it., “And you’re not in it alone. I don’t know how, but she’s half mine too. We’ll do it together, just like everything else.”

At this, Bucky cracks a crooked grin. It’s tiny, but it’s there, and it sends Steve reeling into another decade. “Guess you’re not the worst person I coulda knocked up,” Bucky says, elbowing Steve gently in the side.

Steve grins right back, feeling like his face might crack right open. “There’s no one on this goddamn earth I’d trust with any kid of mine more than you, Barnes.”

The two of them glance at the coffee table, where Peter is now enthusiastically drawing Steve’s shield while the little girl watches, expressionless but concentrated. Tony has thrown himself onto the sofa behind them, pretending to be uninterested while surreptitiously taking pictures with his StarkPhone. 

“She looks so much like you, Stevie,” Bucky says softly, hand moving to curl around the sleeve of Steve’s uniform. They still haven’t changed from the mission, haven’t had the time. “I never thought I’d be alive to meet your kid.”

Steve blinks away the burning in his eyes. “She’s yours, too,” he points out, a little wetly, but Bucky doesn’t comment, “I knew it from the second she opened her eyes. I’d have known ‘em anywhere.” For a moment, Steve wonders if he’s gone too far, but Bucky just smiles, all soft and warm. Steve allows himself this moment, pretends that they’re doing more than co-parenting, that they’re parents, together, raising a family. Then, he whispers, “Let’s go meet her, officially.”

Bucky’s fingers move from Steve’s uniform to wrap around his wrist. He nods once, definitive, eyes glassy. Together, they make the most terrifying walk of their life--the walk that brings them to a kid made from their genes and theirs alone. Steve has faced nazis and aliens, but nothing has prepared him for the fear that shoots through him when a little girl with his face and Bucky’s eyes looks up at him with expectation in her expression.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, hi!” Peter says enthusiastically. He nudges the little girl lightly, says, “Look who’s here!” She shoots him an unimpressed look. Peter is undeterred. “So, we gave her a check up and she seems to be completely healthy. I tried to give her some pretzels but she doesn’t want to eat anything.”

“Might need to be started out on liquids,” Bucky murmurs, glancing at Steve. “So it ain’t a shock to her system.”

“I’ll go make her a smoothie!” Peter offers, already halfway up. He heads over to the shared kitchen before anyone can respond, calling over his shoulder, “Does she like bananas? Never mind, why would you know that? Trial and error.”

Steve sits down next to the little girl, slowly and carefully so as not to startle her. She watches him curiously, but doesn’t seem to be afraid. Tony snaps another picture with his phone.

“Hey, pal,” Steve says quietly, “How’s coloring with Pete been?”

She pauses for a moment. “It was satisfactory. Is this a part of my training?”

Steve swallows thickly, glancing at Bucky for support. Bucky plops down unceremoniously across from the two of them, metal fingers tapping against the table. The little girl watches him with mild interest. “No, baby doll,” Bucky says gently, “No training.”

“No training.” The little girl repeats, sounding dubious. 

“No training,” Bucky agrees, picking up a green crayon and putting it back in the box. “You’re gonna live here now. With me and Steve. We’re your, uh…” He trails off, looking a little lost.

Steve clears his throat. “Your parents,” he finishes, hoping his smile looks encouraging. 

The little girl frowns. “I was told I did not have parents.”

Bucky visibly deflates at that. “Yeah, kid,” he says, quietly, “We know. But you had to come from somewhere, and you just so happened to come from us.”

Realization dawns on her quickly. Her eyes widen and she says, in a hushed awe, “You are James Barnes and Steven Rogers.”

“We are,” Steve nods, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “You’re half him and half me.”

She seems to consider this for a moment, eyebrows pulled together. “I was created to be an unstoppable soldier.” She looks up at Steve, confusion clear in her beautiful blue eyes. Steve reaches out, slowly, and smooths down her blonde hair. She leans into the touch, just a bit. She’s been through so much, but she’s still so _trusting_ , ready to believe Steve because he’s shown her the bare minimum of kindness. His stomach twists in knots when he thinks of how others might have exploited that in the past. 

“No,” he tells her, and he takes her tiny hand in his, “You were created from two people who love each other very, very much and who will love you even more.”

Bucky is watching them intently. The little girl watches Steve, searches his face for any sign of a lie, before turning to Bucky. Their eyes meet and Bucky extends his arm, palm up, across the table. She stares at it for a moment before placing her free hand in his. Steve tries very, very hard not to cry. He does not succeed. 

The little girl, his daughter, looks up at him, concerned. “You are sad,” she says, an observation. She frees both of her hands to reach up and touch Steve’s face.

Steve shakes his head and lets out a wet laugh. “No, no, not at all,” he says, “I’m just very glad you’re here.”

Peter tiptoes over slowly, eyes wide, like even the smallest amount of noise will break the moment. He places the smoothie in front of Bucky, whose eyes are suspiciously wet, and whispers, “It’s strawberry banana.”

Tony snorts. Bucky pushes the smoothie towards Steve, moving several drawings out of the way as he does so. Their daughter stares at the cup dubiously, little brows furrowed. “Registered emotion: confusion,” she says, dipping one tiny finger into the cup and frowning when the tip is covered in pink goo.

Steve chokes, a little. She sounds like a robot, this poor little girl with his best friend’s eyes. He’s seen those eyes, blank and staring back at him with no recognition. Those baby blues were never meant to look so empty. 

“Nutrients,” Bucky tells her, “Watch.” He takes a sip and makes a show of swallowing it. Then, he pushes it back over to her.

Carefully, she lifts the cup to her mouth and drinks. She sets it down and says, matter-of-factly, “This is more than adequate.” There’s a little pink mustache over her top lip and Steve wants to start crying all over again.

Bucky lets out a startled laugh, says, “You can have as much of it as you want.”

“So what are we thinking?” Tony asks, breaking into the conversation with about as much tact as to be expected. Their daughter licks at her lips before downing half of the smoothie in one go. Steve watches Bucky smile at her and feels his heart threaten to beat right out of his chest. “Race car bed? What do kids like? Peter, hey, what do kids like? Is this too much?” Tony shoves his little tablet at Pete, whose eyes widen at whatever’s on the screen.

“That’s sick,” he breathes, eyes wide, “It’s like a whole castle!”

“I don’t think she needs a whole castle,” Steve starts.

“I do not know what a castle is,” Their daughter tells them, very matter-of-factly.

“It’s where princesses live,” Tony says, throwing his arms out grandly, “And you, my dear, are a princess.”

“Codename: princess?” she asks, uncertainty evident in her little face. She reminds Steve so much of Bucky, when Steve first got him back. Perpetually confused and disoriented, going through life without fully understanding what was happening. It broke Steve’s heart then, and it breaks Steve’s heart now.

“No, babydoll,” Bucky says quietly. He leans across the table to brush a strand of hair out of her face. She leans into the touch, closing her eyes. Bucky glances back at Steve and says, “She really needs a name.”

“Do we name her?” Steve asks, feeling helpless, “Do we let her pick a name?”

“Codename?” she asks, head cocked to the side.

“No,” Steve says, gently, “Your real name. It’s what everyone will call you. It’s who you are. My name is Steven. That’s James, but we call him Bucky.”

She frowns into her empty cup, contemplative. “I do not know any names.”

Tony rights himself and leans against the back of the couch. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Start listing baby names. Random order.” Tony shrugs, glancing at the little girl and then at Steve, “Might get the juices flowing, you know?”

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS says, and then he’s off. “Mackenzie, Amelia, Lydia, Marissa, Katherine, Jessica, Rebecca, Bridgette, Emma--”

“Emma,” the little girl repeats, softly at first, and then, stronger, “Emma.”

Bucky startles. “That was my grandmother’s name,” he says, sounding surprised. 

Bucky has most of his memories back, but there are still some smaller details that have evaded him and pop up randomly. Steve wonders if this is one of them. He smiles encouragingly, wiping at his face with the back of his sleeve, says, “Yeah, Buck. It was.”

Beside him, their daughter sits up a little straighter, her head cocked to the side, considering. Bucky looks at her, and she looks back. He cracks a small smile. “Emma,” he repeats, “You like that name?”

She smiles back, a _real_ smile, one that lights up her entire face like a Christmas tree. She’s the most beautiful thing Steve’s ever seen. 

“Emma,” she repeats, almost as if testing it out. She turns her thousand watt smile on Steve and asks, “Emma?” like she wants his permission.

“Sounds great, kid,” Steve says, voice rough with emotion. Across the coffee table, Bucky’s looking at their daughter-- _Emma_ \--with complete and open adoration. “It’s perfect.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all don't mind gratuitous bed sharing and hand-wavy science!

Peter takes the liberty of showing Emma the wonders of television, which allows Steve and Bucky a second to catch their breath. Steve’s eyes are still wet as they sit down at the kitchen island, listening to Peter rattle on about cartoons that Steve’s never heard of while Tony makes his way through an entire catalogue of children’s toys on his tablet. Emma stares at the TV, head tilted to the side in confusion, as a princess sings about life in a tower. 

“That’s a princess,” Tony tells her, nodding towards the screen. 

“I am a princess,” Emma says, tiny eyebrows pinched together.

“Sure are, kid.”

Bucky sits stock still, eyes trained diligently on Emma like she’ll disappear if he looks away for even a second. Steve understands that feeling.

“What do kids even need?” Bucky asks, suddenly. He spares a glance at Steve before his eyes snap back to Emma. “Food? Clothes? Christ, she doesn’t even have a bed.”

“On it,” Tony calls from the couch, not even pausing to look up from his tablet.

Steve frowns. “Tony, I can’t ask you to--”

Tony sighs deeply and sets the tablet down on the coffee table. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Steve,” he says, pushing to his feet. He looks vaguely uncomfortable and a little pained, but he presses on nonetheless. Bucky’s eyes trail him distrustfully as Tony walks over and places a hesitant hand on Steve’s shoulder. It’s strange, but not unwelcome. Mostly, Steve’s just confused.

Bucky squints at Tony, clearly suspicious.

Tony clears his throat awkwardly, says, “Look, Cap. You’re like family. Even the Murder Muppet has wiggled his way into my cold, dead heart.” Bucky huffs out a noise that might be a laugh, and Tony takes a moment to look surprised before continuing. “I’m just saying, okay, that kid is...she’s gonna need a lot of help. And I’d like to,” He coughs, eyes trained on the fruit basket in the center of the island, “Help. If you’d let me.”

“Tony,” Steve says, and his voice sounds embarrassingly close to cracking.

Tony holds up a hand, says, hastily, “Don’t get all sappy on me, Rogers. Just let me worry about the material stuff, okay? It’s not like I’m strapped for cash or anything. You focus on the important things, like love and all that other parental bullshit I have never personally experienced.”

Steve doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods once, definitively. Tony nods back, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional weight this conversation carries. Steve and Bucky lock eyes over the island, and Bucky gives something that resembles a smile. He glances up at Tony and says, quietly, “Thanks, Stark.”

“No problem,” Tony says. Steve lets it drop because Tony is family to him, too, and he knows that the look on Tony’s face means he’s about reached his sensitivity quota for the day.

Before anyone can say anything else, the elevator pings open and Clint walks out, whistling tunelessly. He stops short and gapes. “That’s a child,” he says intelligently. He looks around wildly. “Who’s kid is that?”

Emma looks from Clint to Peter, uncertain. Tony snorts and says, “Take a wild guess, Barton. Look at those all-American apple pie cheeks.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Clint says, and Emma frowns.

“Don’t swear in front of my kid,” Bucky calls, and the same time Emma says, “Inappropriate language is forbidden” with a scolding look that Steve has seen a thousand goddamn times on Bucky’s face after Steve got himself in trouble.

“ _Your_ kid?” Clint asks, glancing from Bucky to Steve quickly enough that Steve’s worried about a muscle strain.

Emma sits up a little straighter, lifts her chin, and says, “These are my parents, Captain Steven Grant Rogers and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.”

Clint makes a strange noise in the back of his throat. Steve glances at Emma, a little worriedly. He tries to ignore the flip of his stomach at the words _my parents_. “She should probably call us Dad, right? Is that something we should be, like, encouraging?”

Bucky shrugs. “Probably. What do I know?”

Peter shifts slightly so that he’s facing Emma. She watches him with her blank little face, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Hey, Emma, so,” Peter says, glancing quickly at Steve, who shrugs helplessly, “You can call Steve and Bucky ‘Dad.’” He pauses, then asks, “Do you want her to call you both dad?”

Steve turns to Bucky, feeling a little lost. Bucky’s already watching him quietly. 

“Pops,” Bucky says, “S’what I used to call my old man.”

Steve smiles at him, going a little gooey inside. Bucky offers a small smile back.

Emma nods resolutely. “Captain Dad. Sergeant Pops.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony says.

“Wow, okay, no,” Peter says, shooting a panicked look at Steve.

Steve lets out a strangled noise that turns half-way into a cough. “Geeze, okay,” he says, blowing out a breath. He gets up and walks over to Emma, settling down next to her. She watches him, but she doesn’t look afraid. That’s a good sign, probably. “Just Dad and Pops. No titles,” After a pause, he adds, “Please.”

Emma frowns. She does that a lot, and it feels like a punch to the chest everytime Steve has to see it. “Addressing authority figures without proper titles results in punishment,” she says warily.

“No punishment,” Steve says, “You can call us whatever you want.”

She seems to consider this, and there’s a horrifying moment where Steve thinks she’s going to settle on _Captain_ and _Sergeant_. Emma keeps direct eye contact, almost challenging Steve to say anything. She’s testing them, he realizes. Of course she doesn’t actually believe they won’t hurt her. Steve offers a tiny smile that he hopes is encouraging. 

“Dad and Pops are sufficient,” Emma says, after a long moment. “New titles accepted.”

Steve lets out a long breath. The tension in the room is palpable; no one knows what to do with this little girl who looks like an angel and acts like a soldier. 

“So,” Tony says, breaking the silence with his usual amount of tact, “Are pink sheets okay? I don’t want to be sexist or anything, but these are cute as shit. Pete, look at these. So cute.”

In the end, they let Emma pick everything out for her room. She sits beside Tony and takes her time weighing every option, tongue poked out in concentration. It’s easily the cutest thing Steve has ever seen. Bucky hovers behind the couch, a silent guardian. He won’t sit down, no matter how many pleading looks Steve sends him. Clint sprawls out in the closest armchair and serves as tie breaker--whenever Emma can’t decide, she hands the tablet over and lets him pick. Clint seems oddly touched, and takes his job very seriously.

By the time they finish, it’s dark out. Tony checks out and very pointedly does _not_ let Steve see the total. “Everything’ll be here tomorrow. Express shipping,” he says, winking at Emma. She stares blankly back.

Bucky sits down carefully on the edge of the coffee table. “Thank you, Stark,” he says, voice a little rough. Steve nods emphatically. Tony waves them off, cheeks going slightly pink. Bucky turns to Steve. “Where’s she gonna sleep tonight?”

“I’ll take the couch,” Steve says immediately. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Shocking.”

Tony snorts.

Steve ignores them. “She can have my bed tonight, and then we can convert my room into hers when all of her stuff comes in tomorrow.”

“And where will you sleep?” Bucky asks, punctuating his statement by raising a single eyebrow. 

Steve crosses his arms. “The couch,” he says, a little petulantly.

“You’re too fuckin’ big for the couch,” Bucky says.

“What happened to ‘Don’t swear in front of my kid?’” Clint asks, sounding offended.

“You can’t,” Bucky tells him, “But she’s my kid, so I can.”

“You know I can just like...renovate your floor,” Tony says, “Add another room.”

“No, no, that’s too much. It’s fine, really. The couch is fine! Seriously.”

“Stevie, you can’t fit on the goddamn couch.” Bucky huffs out a laugh, sounding a little exasperated. He lets his head drop into his hand, like Steve’s giving him a headache or something, which is bullshit. Bucky can’t even get headaches. God, he’s so melodramatic. “Look, just stay in my room. We shared a bed for two years in our old apartment--”

“How homoerotic,” Tony says.

“It was for _warmth_ ,” Steve says. He can feel his cheeks going red, which he knows does not help his case. “We didn’t have _heat_ , Tony, Christ. And,” He turns on Bucky, “I was also a quarter of the size I am now. I take up a lot more space, Buck.”

Bucky shrugs. “Big bed,” he says, unimpressed. After a second, he quirks an eyebrow. “Steve, pal. We have a kid together and you’re gonna get all bent outta shape over sharing a bed?”

Steve opens his mouth, shuts it. “Huh,” he says, “Okay. Yeah. Point made.”

Bucky holds his arms out in a “see?” gesture. He looks smug. Steve wants to smack him. Emma looks between them and tries to stifle a yawn. Bucky laughs quietly. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says gently, holding his flesh hand out to her, “Let’s go home.”

Emma takes it after only a moment’s hesitation. She holds onto Bucky like a lifeline, plastering herself to his side. “Home?” she repeats, looking up at Steve with wide eyes.

In that moment, Steve knows he would burn the world to the ground for this little girl.

“Yeah, Emma,” he says, crouching down in front of her, “Home.”

She watches him for a long moment, searching for any trace of a lie. Steve is struck by the realization that they don’t even really know what she’s been through. What they do know is...pretty horrifying, the IV feeding, the cryo. Steve’s not sure he can stomach much more.

Suddenly, Emma launches herself at him, little arms wrapping around his neck in a hug that feels more like a chokehold. Steve hugs her back fiercely, making inane shushing noises that feel stupid but seem to calm her. “You’re okay,” Steve tells her, “You’re safe now.”

He lifts her up and she clings impossibly harder. There’s a loud sniff behind them, and Steve turns around just in time to see Clint wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. “Aw, man,” he says wetly, “I’d kill anyone that tried to hurt that kid.”

Steve knows the feeling.

“Say goodnight, babydoll,” Bucky says quietly, appearing at Steve’s side like a ghost. Emma lifts her head and waves silently, before burying her face back into Steve’s shoulder. Bucky smiles, a crooked little thing that still manages to make Steve’s knees go weak. 

It feels like coming home.

Emma’s asleep before they can make it three floors up to their own apartment. They put her to bed quickly, tucking the covers around her securely and carefully. She looks so tiny in that big bed, curled up in the dead center, drooling lightly on Steve’s pillow. Bucky watches her with an open awe that Steve hasn’t seen since before the war. 

Steve reaches out and lets his fingers curl around Bucky’s elbow. Bucky breathes out what might be a laugh. “She’s asleep,” he says, almost disbelieving.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. He watches Emma for a long moment, before his eyes move to meet Steve’s. “How the fuck does she trust us this much already? She fell asleep on you.”

Steve puts on his best, most winning smile. “Well, I am Captain America.”

That startles a quiet laugh out of Bucky. “You’re a shithead, is what you are.”

Steve takes a moment to let himself feel so, so fucking lucky that his best friend is alive and being an asshole right next to him. “C’mon, Buck,” he says a little breathlessly, bumping his hip against Bucky’s, “Let’s go to bed.”

They get changed quickly and quietly, not even bothering to turn the lights on. Steve lets his eyes adjust for a moment, taking in the little ways Bucky’s made his room his own since he moved in. The pile of clothes on the floor, the science fiction books on the nightstand, the Captain America Build-a-Bear on his dresser because while many things have changed, Bucky is still a dick.

It’s not the first time he’s climbed into Bucky’s bed, considering how many times he’s had to help chase away nightmares and memories that might as well be nightmares. Still, this feels different. It feels like another lifetime, where he and Bucky put their daughter to bed and fall asleep curled next to each other. It feels like the life Steve always wished for, when he was small and sick in bed with nothing to do but dream of the impossible. 

Now, it’s seventy-odd years later and _real_ , except small-Steve seemed to have gotten some very important details wrong.

Bucky grunts as he falls onto the sheets, pulling them over his head until he’s nothing more than a lump of fabric. Steve eases down slowly and lies stock-still in the darkness. After a moment, Bucky reaches out and pinches him. “I can hear you thinking,” he mumbles, “Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rogers.”

-

Steve startles awake to the sound of a horrible choking noise. His immediate thought is that it’s Bucky, waking up from a nightmare, but Bucky’s already launching out of bed, knife in hand, nearly knocking the door off its hinges in his haste to get to Emma. Steve hurries after him, shaking off the drowsiness until clarity hits him like a mac truck and suddenly he’s _terrified_.

They’ve found her, they’ve gotten past all of Tony’s security and they’ve come to take her away--

But it’s just Emma, clutching at the fabric of Bucky’s shirt and wheezing. Bucky’s eyes are wide and scared when they meet Steve’s, one arm wrapped around her little body and the other hand tangled in her hair. The knife lies forgotten on the floor. “Asthma,” Bucky blurts out, standing with Emma in his arms. “God, how the fuck did Stark not see this? Building!”

“Master Stark has been notified and is on his way to the medical bay as we speak,” JARVIS replies immediately. 

Bucky charges past Steve. Emma reaches out a tiny hand and croaks out, “Dad.” Steve snaps out his stupor and runs after them, heart in his throat.

“Hey, hey, baby, shh,” Steve whispers senselessly into Emma’s hair, lips pressed against her head. He’s got one arm around Bucky’s waist and the other resting on Emma’s back, trying desperately to offer her any bit of comfort he can. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

There are tears running down Emma’s little cheeks as she wheezes against Bucky’s chest. “I’m gonna kill Stark,” Bucky growls out, so low Steve almost doesn’t hear.

The elevator pings and the doors open, the both of them stumbling out in a panic. The white of the med bay is blinding. A woman in a white coat that Steve recognizes vaguely as Tony’s personal doctor is walking briskly towards them. “Follow me,” she says sharply, and she leads them into a hospital room. Tony’s already there, pacing back and forth in his pajamas, hair sticking up at all angles. Natasha is sitting perfectly still in one the chairs, watching the scene unfold with a detachment that would be offensive if it was literally anyone else.

Bucky lays Emma down carefully on the bed, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “JARVIS, scan her,” Tony barks, and a ray of blue light erupts from the ceiling. Impossibly, Bucky tenses even more. Steve attaches himself to Bucky’s side, an arm wrapped firmly around Bucky’s shoulders. 

“Sergeant Barnes has correctly diagnosed Miss Emma with an asthma attack, sir.”

Bucky rounds on Tony, fists clenched at his side. “Why the fuck didn’t you _check_ her? You _know_ Steve’s history, he was a sick kid, he could have passed something on--”

“We checked for everything that doesn’t involve a blood test,” Tony snaps, “She was cleared for asthma, we checked for everything in Steve’s file! I’m not an _idiot_ , Barnes, I know how genetics work--”

Tony’s doctor disappears for a moment and comes back with a rescue inhaler. She puts it to Emma’s mouth but Emma knocks it down and twists away violently, trying to get as far from the doctor as possible without falling off the bed. Steve rushes forward because how could they be so stupid? Of course she’d be terrified of doctors, of course she wouldn’t want any sort of medication--

“It’ll stop,” Emma wheezes out, grabbing onto Steve’s hand with both of hers, “I don’t want that, it’ll stop--”

“Sweetheart,” Steve chokes out, “Emma, it’ll help you, I swear, we’d never hurt you--”

“It’ll _stop_ ,” Emma insists, eyes pleading.

And then it does. Emma takes a deep breath and settles against the pillows, looking utterly exhausted. Her breathing clears and she stops wheezing entirely, like nothing even happened in the first place. Steve blinks at her, and then at Bucky. Bucky’s frozen in place, mouth gaping. Emma coughs, once, and says, very quietly, “I told you it would stop.”

“How did she--” Steve cuts himself off, shakes his head. “Emma, how?”

Emma stares at him with wide, doleful eyes. “It always does.”

“JARVIS,” Tony chokes out.

“Yes, sir.” The blue light returns and scans over Emma again. She watches it with only mild interest and squints when it hits her eyes. “It appears that the serum in Miss Emma’s system has fought off the asthma attack. She has returned to almost one-hundred percent lung functionality. Ninety-nine point two three, to be exact.” To punctuate this, Emma coughs again.

“Dr. Fuller,” Tony says, voice distant, “Could you please excuse us?”

“Of course,” Dr. Fuller says, and she leaves with nothing more than a curious glance at Emma.

Natasha clears her throat pointedly. “I’ve spent all day going through the files we took from the HYDRA facility. I was going to wait until tomorrow to bring them to your attention, but it seems like now is as good a time as ever.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky demands. 

Natasha levels him an unimpressed look until he grumbles under his breath and collapses in a hospital chair by Emma’s bed. Emma reaches out, a silent question. Bucky scoots closer and takes her hand in his. She quietly inspects the metal of his palm while Natasha continues.

“There are a lot of horrifying things in those files,” Natasha says, as frank as ever. Steve winces. Tony stares pointedly at the floor. “To be completely honest, I don’t know if you even want to read them. I almost wish I hadn’t, but there are some things you need to be aware of. The first being that Emma inherited a decent amount of Steve’s childhood ailments.”

A terrible, debilitating shame coils up in the pit of Steve’s stomach. He looks at Emma and feels nauseous. Bucky looks at him sharply, eyes narrowed, says, “Don’t you dare,” just as Tony blurts out, “That’s impossible. We checked for everything.”

Natasha raises one perfect eyebrow. “It won’t show up, because Steve and James’ combined serums are actively fighting every sickness Emma’s body could possibly house.”

“Then how--”

Emma makes a tiny, miserable noise in the back of her throat. “Malfunction.” She grips onto Bucky’s hand tighter. “They don’t know why my body does this and they tried to fix it but they can’t. I promise, it always stops. Sometimes I can’t breathe but it goes away, I’ll be a good soldier, I promise--” She cuts off with a sob that wracks her entire body.

Bucky pulls her to him, lifting her off of the bed and into his lap in one fluid movement. He makes little nonsense shushing noises, pressing featherlight kisses into her hair. Natasha watches them for a moment, a pained expression on her face.

Steve swallows thickly. “That’s why they left her there,” he whispers, hoarse. 

Natasha nods, just once.

“Shit,” Tony says.

“The serum acts as an immune system, fighting off any illness that slips past. She will always be able to get better, without the help of any medication or treatment. But the serum doesn’t stop the symptoms.” Natasha clasps her hands in her lap, watches Bucky rock Emma gently as she cries.

“Can’t have an agent suffer an asthma attack in the middle of a mission,” Steve spits, white-hot rage filling him so completely he feels like he’ll explode. He hasn’t been this angry since he read Bucky’s files, read what HYDRA did to him, how they took away his humanity and treated him as a weapon. 

“I want to read the files,” Bucky says, voice rough. “I have to.”

Steve sighs. “Buck--”

“I gotta read them, Stevie.”

Emma cries quietly against Bucky’s sleep shirt, her entire body shaking with--with fear, fear that they’re going to throw her away like some broken toy. They have to understand what she went through if they’re going to help her. Both of them. Steve lets out a shaky breath. “You're right. Of course, you're right,” he says. Bucky offers a tiny approximation of a smile.

“She’s six, by the way,” Natasha says, quietly, “Not eight.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to Natasha. “What?”

Natasha pauses, like she’s choosing her words very carefully. She glances at Emma, and then back at Steve--a silent question. Steve nods. Emma should be here when they talk about her. She lived through it, for God’s sake. Natasha sighs, but continues. With an apologetic look, she says, “Emma was frozen for two years. They had plans to...eliminate the experiment.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, tightens his grip around Emma. Steve feels like he’s going to throw up.

“How did she know she was supposed to be eight?” Steve asks, dreading the answer but needing to know.

Emma lifts her head and taps at Bucky’s chest until he looks down. “Handler Mullen told me,” she says, voice small, “She unfroze me. Everyone was yelling and people were shooting outside the vault and I was so scared. She...she came to say goodbye. She said we were under attack and that I’d be safe if I was frozen, but she told me what year it was and that she would miss me. She told me a new handler would be coming to find me. Then she froze me again, and the next thing I remember is you finding me.” Emma sniffles. Bucky rubs soothing circles up and down her back, the same way he used to when Steve was sick and couldn’t get out of bed. “I’m good at math, I knew two years had passed. I’m smart,” she adds, almost defensively. 

Bucky lets out a watery laugh. “Yeah, kid. You get that from me. Your dad is terrible at math.”

Steve kicks Bucky in the shin and tries not to think about how the only person who showed Emma even an ounce of kindness still left her for dead.

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Emma whispers, looking between Steve and Bucky rapidly, “Even though I have asthma. I promise, I’m good.”

Steve’s heart breaks all over again. “Hey, it’s okay,” he rushes to say, smoothing her hair down gently. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying with us.”

Emma hesitantly holds out one tiny pinky. “Promise?”

Steve wraps his finger around hers without a second thought. “Promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all!! school's been crazy so i wrote this instead of the essay that's due terrifyingly soon. enjoy!!!

Steve doesn’t get any sleep that night.

He sits against the wall of his daughter’s bedroom, head dipped forward, listening to Emma breathe. She’d fallen asleep as soon as they left the medbay, her little body slumped against Bucky’s chest like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Dr. Fuller had discreetly slipped Steve a rescue inhaler on their way out, a sad but encouraging smile on her face. “Just in case,” she’d said, and Steve had nodded, throat tight. 

The door creaks open and Bucky slips inside, quiet as a ghost. He offers Steve a tired smile and a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” Steve whispers as Bucky settles down next to him, knees knocking together in an effort to get as close as possible. When Bucky first came home, he didn’t like to be touched. Steve had stayed close to the edges of every room, giving Bucky the space he needed to heal. Being this close to Bucky now feels like a gift.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours (but what is probably only a few minutes) until Steve says, “Being a parent is the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Bucky huffs out a quiet laugh. After a moment, his expression go a little distant. Steve watches silently, tracing the smile lines on Bucky’s face with his eyes. “When I’m scared for her, I can’t be scared of myself,” he says, and his voice is careful. He stares at his hands, open and palms up. “She reminds me I’m human. I have someone to take care of, now.” He offers a smile that falls just short of genuine. “Not like you need me anymore, pal.”

Before he can stop himself, Steve reaches out and grabs Bucky’s metal hand. He squeezes gently. “I’ll always need you, Buck. You make the good parts of me better.”

Bucky lets his smile turn crooked, genuine, and says, “You remind me that I still got good parts left.”

Steve goes to argue that _of course_ Buck has good parts, Bucky is one _giant_ good part, but they both fall silent and zero-in on Emma as she shifts in bed. She lets out a tiny sigh and buries her face into the pillow. Bucky’s Captain America Bear sits diligently beside her, keeping watch. 

Bucky blows out a breath. “I know I’ve said this a million times but Jesus, she looks like you.”

“Lucky kid,” Steve says, and Bucky snorts. 

Steve shushes him, nudging his knee against Bucky’s gesturing towards the bed. Bucky rolls his eyes, but his voice is quieter when he speaks next. “Listen, if that kid’s anything at all like you, she’ll be able to sleep through another goddamn alien invasion.”

Steve shivers. “Don’t jinx us, Buck, Jesus.”

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t sound sorry. When Steve glances over, Bucky’s already looking at him. His expression is soft, almost questioning, and that’s when Steve realizes he’s still holding onto Bucky’s hand, which...shit.

Is it weirder to just own it or drop Bucky’s hand like a hot potato? Jesus, they’ve been through so much together, Steve should be able to hold the guy’s hand without it being strange, right? 

But Steve knows better than anyone that it’s not about what’s _appropriate_ for two best pals to do. And if it were, Bucky wouldn’t have fuckin’ cared, because Buck used to be the touchiest guy Steve knew. He’d pick Steve up and swing him around like a ragdoll, hug him tight enough to burst, hook his chin over the top of Steve’s head just to show off his height. Now, though...now, Bucky flinches if someone gets within a foot of his designated personal space. The only people allowed close enough to touch are Steve, _sometimes_ Natasha, and _occasionally_ Sam. 

Steve doesn’t ever want to overstep Bucky’s boundaries, push him into something he’s not comfortable with. God, what if Bucky thinks Steve needs more than what he already has? Steve could go his whole life with just this and be perfectly content. Hell, there’s no “just” about it. Bucky has always been enough, in any way Steve could have him.

Steve’s internal panic must show on his face because Bucky, the asshole, _laughs_ at him. 

“I’m not gonna break, Steve,” he says, and he knocks his knee against Steve’s. 

“I know that,” Steve says, a little too quickly. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. Emma lets out a tiny sigh in her sleep and she shifts, knocking the Captain America Bear over. Bucky’s up in an instant, crossing the room and righting the bear with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.

It is horribly endearing. Steve is fucked.

Emma’s eyes snap open, body going rigid. Bucky takes a deliberate step back and says, gently, “Hey, kid. It’s just me.”

Emma squints into the darkness for a moment, before the tension trains from her little form. “Pops,” Emma says, an observation. Steve’s stomach flips.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky agrees, “Captain A-Bear-Ica fell so I was fixin’ him, is all.”

“Okay,” Emma say, easily enough. She drops back off to sleep almost immediately, like someone flipped a lightswitch. Steve takes a moment to sigh internally at _Captain A-Bear-Ica_. 

Bucky doesn’t move away, at first. He shoves his hands deep in his sweatpants pockets and keeps his eyes trained on Emma. Emma, who has known them for less than twenty-four hours but already trusts them enough to fall asleep despite their presence in her room. Emma, who might actually be sleeping better _because_ they’re in the room, ready to fight the monsters under the bed and make sure her bear is always where he’s supposed to be. 

Bucky makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. Steve lets his held tilt to the side in a silent question. Bucky glances at him over his shoulder, says, “She’s perfect, Steve. She’s the spittin’ image of my favorite person in the goddamn universe.” He laughs, a little breathless, seemingly surprising even himself. “And I get to be her dad. How fuckin’ nutty is that?” 

“Buck,” Steve says, because he’s a little speechless at the moment.

“I always wanted kids,” Bucky continues, voice going soft, “It was one of the first things I remembered about myself. I used to hold onto Gracie when she was real little and think, _goddamn_ , I hope I get to have this.” He laughs again, a little self-deprecating. “Not that I thought I’d be any good at it, mind you. Sure, I was alright with my sisters, but I always gave ‘em back to Ma when they got too fussy. But I got you to help me out, so I guess I’ll be okay.”

Steve clears his throat, blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes, and says, “You always got me, Buck.”

Bucky turns around fully, sends Steve the most genuine smile he’s seen in literal _decades_ , and it takes all of Steve’s willpower to stop himself from turning into a blubbering mess. “C’mon, Rogers,” he says, and he reaches out a hand to hoist Steve up, “Sun’s comin’ up. Let’s make breakfast.”

Steve wants to say that seeing the perfect mix of him and Bucky alive and there to hold his hand and call him Dad is almost too good to be true. Unexpected and a little (read: a lot) terrifying, but amazing. It’s more than Steve had ever let himself hope for. Especially after he woke up alone, in a shiny new century, with everyone he ever loved dead or dying. When the love of his life had been simultaneously dead for three months and seventy years. When the world had moved on and Steve was left to grieve alone.

Instead, Steve says, “Yeah, okay. Breakfast.”

-

Steve sets a plate with a lone pancake on it in front of Emma. “We thought you might want to try to eat something,” Steve tells her, trying to keep his voice light. Bucky nods encouragingly. “If you don’t like it, we can make you a smoothie instead.”

Emma eyes the plate distrustfully. “This is food?”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky says, and pointedly takes a bite of his own breakfast. 

Steve cuts it into bite-sized pieces, careful to keep the knife angled away from Emma. She wrinkles her nose, and in that instant she looks so much like Becca that Steve feels the breath knock right out of him.

“It’s flat.” Emma observes.

“Sure is, doll,” Bucky agrees around a mouthful of pancake. He looks curiously at Steve, head tilted a little to the side. 

Steve just shakes his head and says, “Gross, Buck.”

Emma eats slowly, chewing like any sudden movement will cause an explosion. She swallows and waits for a moment, little brow furrowed. “More than satisfactory,” she announces, and Steve smiles at her like a dope.

“You don’t have to be so formal, kid,” Bucky tells her, “You can just say you like it. It’s okay.”

“I like it,” Emma parrots back dutifully, and Bucky laughs.

“Good to hear,” he tells her, fond and soft in a way Steve hasn’t seen since the last time he saw Bucky with Gracie. She’d been eight when he’d shipped out, just barely older than Emma now. She was the spitting image of Buck, and charming as all hell. Could bat her eyes and get anything she wanted, just like her big brother. Steve sees her in Emma’s smiles, rare as they are. 

She may look like Steve on a more superficial level, but goddamn is she a Barnes through and through.

“Excuse me, sirs, miss,” JARVIS interrupts. His voice sounds almost gentle, like he’s being careful not to startle Emma. “Staff Sergeant Wilson is requesting access to your floor.”

Steve clears his throat before he speaks, waves vaguely at the ceiling. “You don’t even have to ask. It’s Sam.”

“I thought it best to give Miss Emma a proper warning so as not to frighten her.”

Steve feels immediately guilty because shit, he should have thought of that. His guilt is magnified tenfold when he remembers that _shit_ , they didn’t tell Sam about Emma.

“Thank you, Building,” Bucky says easily, because Steve has apparently lost the ability to function properly. He swivels his stool towards Emma, who has a mouthful of pancakes and is looking decidedly unimpressed at the thought of a visitor. “Sam’s a good guy. He’s your Dad’s best friend. You can trust him.”

“You’re my best friend,” Steve corrects, on total autopilot. Bucky rolls his eyes, but he looks fond. “Sam’s a close second, though.”

The elevator pings and Sam steps out. His gaze goes straight to Steve and he lifts an eyebrow. “Is there something you wanna tell me, man?”

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky calls, downing half of his coffee in one gulp. “This is Emma,” he adds, jerking his head in Emma’s direction. “Our kid,” he clarifies, like she isn’t the spitting image of Steve with what are unmistakably Bucky’s eyes. Or maybe they’re just unmistakable to Steve, who has spent the vast majority of his life staring into them or at them.

“Hello, sir,” Emma says politely, her back straight and stiff as a board. 

Steve moves closer to her, hands where she can easily see them. They’ve made a lot of progress in a very short period of time but Steve knows better than anyone that progress is not linear. Emma’s gaze flicks towards him and she relaxes minutely, letting her head tilt to the side. “Emma, this is Sam. He’s safe. We wouldn’t let anyone near you that would hurt you.”

“Safe,” Emma repeats, sounding a little dubious. She glances past Steve and lets her eyes land on Sam, who is keeping his face carefully neutral. He doesn’t make to move closer or even step further into the apartment. Sam knows all about safe spaces. They all do, because of Bucky.

As fluid as water, Emma slides off of her stool. Steve sends a panicked look towards Bucky, but Bucky’s eyes are trained on Emma’s tiny frame moving across the floor towards Sam.

Sam crouches slowly so she can look him in the eyes. Emma surveys him silently, calculating. “You won’t hurt me,” she says. It’s not a question.

“Never,” Sam tells her. His voice is gentle but firm.

Emma wordlessly holds out her pinky finger. Sam, momentarily caught off-guard, glances at Steve, but it’s Bucky who speaks. 

“C’mon, Wilson, ain’t you ever seen a pinky promise before?”

Sam looks mildly affronted, but Steve interrupts before they can start bickering like idiots. “It means she trusts you,” he says, looking to Emma for confirmation. She nods, and wraps her finger around Sam’s when he offers it.

“You are Dad’s friend,” Emma says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “I trust Dad. Dad trusts you.”

The world goes a little fuzzy with the sudden onslaught of tears blurring Steve’s vision. He coughs once, tries to clear his throat and calm down. It doesn’t work. “Thank you, Em,” Steve manages to choke out, hands bunched up in the hem of his shirt to keep himself from reaching out. He wants to pull her to him and hug her tight, but he also wants to respect her boundaries. She stares at him with her wide, beautiful eyes and offers a tiny smile. Bucky appears at Steve’s side like he’s been magnetized there. 

Sam’s eyes are suspiciously wet when he finally stands up. “Man, that’s beautiful,” he says, voice a little thick. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Bucky says, because Steve’s entire body has kind of stopped working. He can’t do anything but stare at Emma. Their perfect little girl.

“Would you like to participate in breakfast?” Emma asks Sam, staring up at him with absolutely none of the fear she had shown previously. Her face is guarded but calm, her posture relaxed. Steve counts it as a win. “Dad is making pancakes. I have just tried them for the first time and can confirm they are more than adequate.” 

Sam’s eyebrows go halfway up his forehead and he shoots Steve an amused look. “More than adequate? She’s singing your praises, man.” Turning to Emma, he adds, warmly, “I’d love to stay for breakfast. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Emma surprises them all by taking Sam’s hand and leading him over to the kitchen island. She waits until he sits before climbing onto her own stool with an easy grace that looks unnatural on a six year old. Bucky, looking positively elated, slides a few pancakes onto Sam’s plate. Sam, bless him, doesn’t even make a rude comment about Bucky serving him. 

The peace is interrupted just as Steve finally begins to relax, listening to Sam carry on a mostly one-sided conversation with Emma while Bucky interjects occasionally. A hologram of Tony, still in pajamas, pops up in the middle of their living room, and all hell breaks loose.

Emma moves quickly, grabbing the butter knife from across the table before any of them can react. Sam lunges towards her, but she’s fast and she’s tiny; she makes it halfway to the living room before Bucky manages to grab her around the waist. He hoists her away and disarms her in one fluid movement. Emma starts to kick and punch, even attempting one well-placed bite before realizing exactly who she’s being held by. Almost immediately, the fight leaks out of her and she goes limp in Bucky’s arms. Bucky repositions her so that he’s holding her against his chest, bouncing lightly and making those inane shushing noises against the top of her head. Steve watches, completely helpless, as Emma shakes like a leaf against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Intruder,” Emma whispers nonsensically, “Not safe. Pops not safe. Dad not safe. Sam not safe.”

“It’s just Tony,” Bucky says, voice pleading, face pressed into her baby-fine hair, “It’s just Tony, baby. You know him, he’s safe. No one is hurt.”

“Um,” Tony’s hologram says intelligently.

Steve takes a deep, measured breath.

“Uh oh,” Tony’s hologram says.

“Steve,” Sam says, holding out a placating hand, “He didn’t know.”

“I know,” Steve says, flat. “I know.”

Bucky’s eyes meet his. Steve crosses their living space in record time, stopping just short of his little family, the two most important people in his life. Emma raises her head to look at him, and there are tear tracks running down her little cheeks. Steve wants to burn the world down.

Wordlessly, tentative, Emma reaches a hand out. Steve wraps his arms around the both of them and Bucky lets out a small breath. Emma’s fingers clutch at Steve’s shirt, nails digging into skin.

Tony clears his throat. Nobody spares him a glance, but he continues nonetheless. “So, uh, first of all, my bad. Didn’t mean to scare the munchkin. Additionally, uh, your munchkin is terrifying, did you know that? Of course you did, the both of you are terrifying. It’s in the genes.”

Sam sighs heavily. “Tony.”

“Right. Right! I had a point. Hill is here, and she’s brought a SHIELD psychologist with her who is apparently supposed to evaluate the mental state of this tiny human, which...now seems inappropriate.” Tony clears his throat, adds, “I can make them go away, if you want. I’ll deal with the inevitable fall out from Fury. No harm, no foul.”

Steve accepts this as the apology it is. He closes his eyes, says, “I don’t know if this is the best time--”

“Steve,” Bucky says, quiet. “She pulled a knife on Tony.”

“She was scared,” Steve says, defensiveness creeping into his tone. He takes a step back, watches the way Emma curls up tighter against Bucky. 

“She needs _help_ ,” Bucky says, and his voice is definitive. Stubborn til the end, the both of them. God, what a fucking pair they make. “Listen, Stevie, I know you got a blind spot a mile-wild when it comes to mentally unstable HYDRA prisoners, but she needs help. Professional help that we can’t give her.”

“So you just want to throw her at SHIELD?” Steve asks, harsher than intended, “Yesterday you said you wouldn’t trust Fury to make her a goddamn sandwich.” Bucky watches Steve for a long moment. It drags on until Steve feels itchy, uncomfortable. Chastised. “Stop lookin’ at me like that,” Steve mutters, ducking his head. “M’sorry.”

“There’s nowhere safer for her than in this tower, with us,” Bucky says, more gently than Steve currently deserves, “No one's gonna take her. If this psychologist is a quack, we take her outta there and find someone better. Tell Fury to go shove it. But Steve,” Bucky waits a beat until Steve meets his eyes. In that moment, they’re a lifetime away, Bucky leveling that same, wary look as he patches Steve up in the kitchen of their shit-hole apartment. Steve hates that look. It’s the look Bucky gives him when Steve reacted exactly the way Bucky thought he would, only he was holding out hope for better. “We owe it to her to try.”

Emma, who has remained worryingly quiet, turns her head towards Steve. “I don’t want to be scared all the time,” she whispers.

In one breath, she’s managed to smash Steve’s heart into pieces. He thinks about Bucky, home after seventy years of captivity and torture, scared of his own shadow. He thinks about how long it had taken Bucky to stop jumping at the slightest noise, to stop hiding knives in all corners of the apartment. To even enter the supermarket without first checking the perimeter. He thinks about Bucky now, brave and so fucking strong, getting better every day through sheer willpower and a drive to live for himself. Bucky, who knows better than anyone what Emma has gone through.

Steve swallows tightly. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Bucky cracks a smile, teasing and a little cocky, “But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Insufferable.” Steve rolls his eyes, finds himself grinning back. He can’t help it. Emma relaxes visibly against Bucky, loosening her grip and lifting her head enough to glance around. “Tony, please tell Maria we’ll be down shortly.”

“I’m sorry for trying to stab you,” Emma says, voice small.

Tony’s pixelated face goes soft. “Aw, kid. _I’m_ sorry. JARVIS warned me against popping in and I didn’t listen.” He glances over at Steve and adds, voice apologetic, “I’ll tell Hill now.”

His hologram blips away and Emma stares at the spot he disappeared from with mild interest. Bucky rubs a hand up and down her back, the same way he used to get Gracie calm. Kids are second nature to Bucky, effortless in a way Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever be. Any bit of self-deprecation is pure bullshit on Bucky’s part, humbleness that the war and several lifetimes of suffering hadn’t managed to beat out of him.

“We’re going to be there the whole time,” Steve tells Emma, “We won’t be out of your sight for a second.”

She nods, head dropping back against Bucky’s shoulder. “You ready, kid?” Bucky asks, poking her gently in the side until she huffs out a tiny laugh.

“Yes,” Emma says, because she’s impossibly brave. She gets that from Bucky.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya. long time, no see. sorry for the wait, friends! 
> 
> this chapter is heavy, which is in part why it took me so long to write. trigger warning for relatively graphic description of torture against a child aka we finally get to know whats in emma's files :(

Emma’s face is a blank little mask as they ride the elevator down to the medbay. She clutches at Bucky like a lifeline, the only indication that there’s anything wrong. Bucky bounces her a little to get her attention, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. She smiles, just the barest hint of emotion. Steve’s insides are turning over in aprehension. 

“This better get Fury off our backs,” he sighs, wiping a hand down his face. 

Bucky nods once, resolute. “It will,” he says, sure in every way that Steve isn’t. He pauses, adds, “And if it doesn’t, I’m not afraid to put this tower into lock down until he does. He’s not gettin’ his grubby hands on her.”

Emma’s little head pops up as the elevator dings open to the medbay. They step out into the lobby, sending strained smiles to the receptionist. “Doctors,” Emma whispers, eyes and expression guarded. She looks at Steve a little accusingly, like he’s pulled the rug out from under her feet. 

It hits him with sudden and horrifying clarity that they never actually explained _who_ she’d be talking to, and to her, this must look _bad_. She lashes out, loses control, and they bring her down to the goddamn medbay. Jesus, she probably thinks they’re going to punish her for stepping out of line.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Steve says quickly, “You’re not in trouble. Not at all. You’re just going to talk to someone, answer a few questions. We’ll be there the whole time.”

Emma’s eyes darken. “Interrogation.”

“Oh, Jesus, no,” Steve says quickly. Bucky meets his eyes and they exchange a pained, helpless glance. “No, sweetheart, not an interrogation. Not even close. This person is going to help you.”

“Help,” Emma repeats flatly, looking decidedly unimpressed.

She looks so much like Bucky in that moment that Steve can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him. “You’re so much like your Pops, you know that?”

Emma gives him a Very Serious Look. “I am made of his genes,” she points out, like this explains everything. “And yours,” she adds, like she doesn’t want Steve to feel left out.

“That you are, kid,” Bucky tells her, impossibly fond, “Which means you’re made of tough stuff. We just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Emma perks up a little. “Status report?”

Bucky’s smile turns sad around the edges. “Something like that.”

Maria Hill appears at their side suddenly. Her smile in tense, apologetic. “Hey, Steve. Barnes. Sorry to spring this on you.”

Steve shrugs. “You’re just followin’ orders.”

Hill nods, but Steve’s dismissal doesn’t seem to ease her mind. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky looks at Steve, deferring. He knows that Steve isn’t one-hundred percent on board with this, and he’s giving Steve this final out. It’s that unconditional show of faith that pushes Steve to respond in kind.

Co-parenting is all about trust, right? Not that Steve would really know.

With a final glance at Emma, Steve says, “Let’s get this over with.”

Bucky reaches out with his free hand and places it on the back of Steve’s neck, squeezing lightly. The cool metal is a welcome sensation, because Steve feels uncomfortably warm and a little suffocated. 

They follow Hill down another one of Tony’s stupidly long hallways. It’s less clinical in this part of medbay, a little warmer. The room they end up in is filled with toys and soft chairs and motivational posters. It’s so bright it makes Steve a little dizzy, but Emma looks intrigued. It’s the first bit of emotion she’s shown since the incident with Tony, so Steve pokes at her leg and asks, “Wanna take a look?”

Emma hesitates, then nods. Bucky transfers her to Steve and she goes easily, tiny arms wrapping around Steve’s neck like they’re meant to be there. Steve smiles softly and says, “Let’s walk around, okay?”

Steve takes Emma around the room, paying close attention for any reaction and stopping when she stares at something even a second longer than usual. She takes special interest in a poster of a cat hanging from a tree that Steve thinks is ridiculous, but that Emma looks at with something close to awe. Steve’s heart is in his throat when he realizes she’s probably never seen a cat before.

Bucky’s bent close to Hill, talking in low tones, but his eyes follow Steve and Emma around the room. Everything goes abruptly still when the door pushes open, revealing a kind-eyed woman with long blonde hair and a purple sundress. Steve will admit, she’s not at all what he was expecting.

“This is Dr. Magnolia Chu,” Hill introduces. Dr. Chu walks a little farther into the room, closing the door gently behind her. Steve watches as Bucky stiffens and then visibly forces himself to relax. “She’s an exceptional child psychologist, specializing in trauma. We’ve used her several times over the years for her expertise, but she was and continues to be independent from SHIELD.”

“Not a huge fan of giant government agencies,” Dr. Chu says with a relaxed shrug, “Unfortunately, they do happen to come across a large amount of traumatized children. I would be amiss in my duties to decline helping when necessary.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky introduces himself, as always, with an unbearably charming smile, “Also not a huge fan of government agencies. This is Steve.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Steve says, and he shakes her hand when she offers it.

“Dr. Chu is at the absolute top of her field. Stark’s people are currently overseeing the most paranoid background check I’ve ever witnessed, and I work for Nick Fury. I can vouch for her personally, if that means anything.” Hill glances at Emma and smiles sadly. “I understand that you have no reason to trust SHIELD, especially not with the safety of your child. But I’m not asking you to trust SHIELD. I’m asking you to trust me.”

Steve watches Maria for a long moment. He likes her, always has. Might even consider her a friend, and Steve doesn’t have too many of those. Maria has repeatedly thrown herself into the fire to defend what she believes is right. She has proved, time and time again, that she’s the kind of person Steve wants on his side.

“We’ll certainly try,” Steve says, because that’s all he can really offer at this point. 

“We want to be in there with her the whole time,” Bucky says, and his voice is still casual but now there’s a dangerous edge to it.. He no longer looks like an easy-going dad with the charming smile; now, he looks every bit the deadly soldier he is. “She’s not to leave our sight, do you understand?” Dr. Chu nods once, and he continues. “If we decide you’re not right for her, for us, you’re done. No questions asked.” 

Again, Dr. Chu nods. Bucky watches her for a long moment. He takes another step forward, drawing himself up to his full height. Bucky was always tough, always protective. There’s a reason Steve didn’t get punched nearly as much as he probably should have. Now, though, there’s an edge of imminent danger in his threats. Bucky doesn’t want to hurt anyone, not anymore, but he _will_ if he needs to. And if he gets to that point, not even God himself could help whoever pushed him.

Bucky leans in real close, just inches from Dr. Chu’s face. “This is your one warning. Don’t fuckin’ try anything. Me and Steve would do anything to protect her, you hear me? You try anything, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve mutters. He has half a mind to cover Emma’s ears.

Dr. Chu looks Bucky dead in the eyes and says, “Understood, sir.”

All at once, Bucky straightens up. His smile returns, a little stiff around the edges, but pleasant nonetheless. “Glad we’re on the same page, Doc. Well, we’re ready when you are.”

He and Dr. Chu head over to the sitting area by the window, chatting amicably like Bucky didn’t just threaten severe bodily harm and also _death_ if she even looks at Emma the wrong way. 

Steve and Hill hang back for a moment. Hill glances at Steve, vaguely impressed. “Your boyfriend’s a scary motherfucker,” she comments lightly.

Steve shifts Emma in his arms, uncomfortable. “Not my boyfriend,” he mutters, busying himself with fixing one of Emma’s tiny socks.

Maria snorts. “Sure, Steve.”

“And don’t swear in front of my kid.”

“Barnes just did!”

“Inappropriate language is forbidden,” Emma chastises Hill, “Except for Pops and sometimes Daddy.”

Hill attempts to smother a smile, says, “My apologies.”

Steve settles down in the armchair beside Bucky, opposite Dr. Chu. Hill hovers behind Dr. Chu, a benevolent shadow. Emma sits deathly still in Steve’s lap. The room is cozy, all warm colors and soft surfaces. It does absolutely fuck all to keep Steve from feeling like the world is caving in on him.

“Hi, Emma,” Dr. Chu greets gently, “My name is Maggie. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hello, ma’am,” Emma says back, voice no more than a whisper. Her head is tilted down, waves of blonde hair falling into her face. She won’t meet Dr. Chu’s eyes.

“She’s, um. She’s not very comfortable with new adults,” Steve says quietly.

“Completely understandable,” Dr. Chu nods, looking entirely unbothered. She turns her full attention back to Emma and offers a quiet smile. “How are you feeling today, Emma?”

Emma’s tiny fingers find their way to Steve’s hand. “I am satisfactory. Thank you for asking.” She pauses for a moment, before adding, “Dad made pancakes for breakfast.”

Dr. Chu positively lights up. “That sounds wonderful. Did you enjoy them?”

“Yes,” Emma glances at Bucky, says, “I like pancakes.”

“She ate three,” Bucky announces proudly, and something warms curls in the pit of Steve’s stomach. Emma cracks the tiniest of smiles. Bucky reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and Emma leans into the touch.

Dr. Chu meets Steve’s eyes and offers a quiet smile. “It’s a great sign that she’s bonded to the both of you so quickly. Trust is not easily won in those who have been through as much as she has.”

Steve nods, his throat uncomfortably tight. He glances at Bucky, who is already staring back at him. “I know.”

Bucky gives a wry smile and speaks to Dr. Chu without looking at her. “This family has a lot of experience with PTSD.” Steve’s stomach flips at the casual way Bucky refers to them as a family.

Dr. Chu asks a few more questions, and Emma answers them the best she can. Her words are stilted, hesitant, and she’s clearly uncomfortable. But she holds onto Steve’s hand like a lifeline and pushes on as best as she can, little face pinched in determination. Dr. Chu keeps the exchange simple, clearly trying to get a feel for Emma’s overall mental state. She seems to like what she sees, because she smiles at Steve and Bucky like they’ve done something right.

“Emma, would you like to color for a moment while I speak to your parents?”

“No,” Emma says, very matter-of-fact, but she slides off of Steve’s lap all the same and heads towards a little table covered in coloring sheets and crayons. Steve watches her go, a little nonplussed. Bucky snorts.

“She seems remarkably well adjusted for how short of a time you’ve had her,” Dr. Chu comments lightly. They all watch as Emma situates herself in a tiny blue chair and stares blankly at a green crayon. “Of course, as I’m sure you’re aware, progress is not linear and her recovery will be difficult.”

“We’re aware,” Bucky says quietly, hands clasped together tightly in his lap. Steve watches him, a little helplessly. 

Dr. Chu offers another one of her gentle smiles. “You two are doing a wonderful job. First time parenthood is difficult enough without everything your little one has been through. All you can do is offer her as much patience and love as you can muster.”

“We got plenty of that in this family, ma’am,” Steve says firmly. He reaches out and settles his hand on Bucky’s knee, palm up. After a moment, cool metal falls against warm skin, and the world around them quiets. “In fact, we tend to go a little overboard.”

Bucky smirks, says, “Steve doesn’t know the meaning of the word half-assed. Always all or nothing with this kid.”

“Well,” Dr. Chu says, hand settling delicately in her lap, “In my professional opinion, I believe Emma is progressing well and that she is exactly where she needs to be.”

Steve’s head snaps up. “That’s it? We’re okay?”

“That’s it,” Dr. Chu agrees. “I assume that two super soldiers and a tower full of Avengers wouldn’t have any issues subduing a six year old should anything...unpleasant happen during Emma’s recovery process?”

Steve thinks back to this morning. They’ll have to be more mindful, more careful. Emma had made it all the way into the living room before Bucky caught her. Weakly, he nods. “Yeah, yes.” He coughs, once. “That shouldn't be an issue.” He and Bucky exchange guilty glances. They should tell her about the incident, of course they should. But.

If there’s any chance that she’ll be taken away, they can’t risk it. 

Dr. Chu nods, apparently satisfied. “Then I believe we’re done here.”

“Could we, um,” Steve starts, stops. Dr. Chu looks at him expectantly. “Could we get your information? In case we….decide to further pursue therapy.” He very pointedly ignores the smug look Bucky shoots his way. Fucking asshole.

Dr. Chu looks surprised, but pleased. “Yes, of course. I would be honored to take on Emma’s case. She’s a very special little girl.”

“She is,” Bucky agrees, eyes trained on Emma as she draws a single, green line down the center of her paper. Steve squeezes his hand. 

-

Steve’s room has been turned into Emma’s room, and Emma’s room is the biggest, pinkest eye sore Steve has ever seen.

But Emma is mesmerized, darting from her brand new bed covered in an array of stuffed animals and lavender sheets to a bookshelf shaped like a castle stacked with what must be hundreds of books. The curtains have gone from a light grey to a bright, hot pink that hurts Steve’s eyes but makes Emma smile like the sun has just come out for the first time ever. Captain A-Bear-Ica sits carefully and importantly against one of her princess-themed pillows. There’s a massive dollhouse, and a toy bin, and a framed picture of Emma smiling and coloring with Pete that _must_ have come from Tony’s phone.

Steve stands beside Bucky in the doorway and watches Emma sit down cautiously in the middle of a fluffy purple rug, running her fingers through the fuzz and laughing. For the first time, she looks and sounds like a little girl. Happy and giggly and carefree.

Tony sits at their kitchen island, attempting to look bored as he scrolls through his phone, but Steve can see how pleased he is.

“Tony--”

“Steve,” Tony sighs, long-suffering, “Don’t make it a thing.”

(Later, when Emma tugs at his pant leg and says, “Thank you, Uncle Tony,” in the tiniest, most grateful voice she can muster, Tony clears his throat and very gingerly pats her head.

“No problem, kid,” he says, clearly choked up and trying _desperately_ to hide it.)

-

They give Emma her first bath that night. She had blanched when the subject was first brought up, eyes wide and fearful until Steve tearfully promised that it wasn’t a punishment, not at all. He doesn’t even want to know what the word _bath_ previously represented in her nightmarish life pre-SteveandBucky.

All of them end up covered in sparkly pink bubbles from the strange little bars that Bucky had incorrectly assumed was soap. Emma is thrilled and distracted enough to allow Steve to gently wash her, soap piled high on her head like a little rose-tinted hat. 

Bucky carries her to her room wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, blonde hair dripping water onto the carpet. Steve marvels at the sheer amount of little girl clothes Tony managed to buy and cram into her closet. Tiny toes curl into the purple rug as Bucky patiently helps her pick out a bright yellow nightgown with a little owl on the front.

“Pretty,” Emma announces to her reflection, as Bucky painstakingly combs the tangles out of her hair with a gentleness Steve hasn’t seen since the last time Gracie complained that Bucky was brushin’ too hard.

“Very pretty,” Bucky agrees. He’s sitting criss-cross on the floor behind her, his own hair swept up into a messy bun. He’s wearing a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and an old Stark Industries sweatshirt stolen from Pepper, which _she_ had stolen from Tony. It’s domestic as all hell, and Steve _aches_.

Emma falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow, her bear tucked safely under her arm. Steve presses a kiss to her forehead and follows Bucky out of the room, the glow from her night light illuminating the way.

They just barely collapse onto the couch, limbs and eyes heavy with exhaustion, when the elevator opens and Nat steps out. Her face is carefully neutral, and she drops a stack of files in front of them with no preamble.

“Hey,” Bucky says easily, blinking tiredly at her. 

“These are Emma’s files,” Natasha says, in lieu of a greeting. Suddenly, Steve’s not so tired. He leans forward to grab the one on top, but Nat smacks his hand away at the last second. “Not yet,” she says, “You need to know what you’re getting into. It’s...hard to read.”

Bucky wipes a hand down his face and sighs. “Go ahead,” he says, weary and resigned. Steve leans forward, head in his hands.

“There are no reports of trigger words or conditioning, but that doesn’t mean anything. Err on the side of caution. She was trained from the moment she could walk. Punishments for misdemeanors were severe. I’d go as far as to say brutal.” Natasha’s voice is bland, almost bored, and that’s how Steve knows she’s bothered. She’s withdrawn so far into herself that she’s barely recognizable as someone Steve considers one of his closest friends. There’s a flash of emotion behind her eyes, and then, “James. Be careful reading these reports. I personally don’t think you should, but I know well enough that I can’t stop you.” Her cool gaze moves to Steve as she adds, “Look after him.”

“Always,” Steve replies immediately. 

Bucky’s expression hardens. “I don’t need--”

“I know,” Steve say softly, “But you’d do the same.”

Blue eyes meet his. A nod, and then, “Yeah. Okay.”

Natasha turns on her heels and marches out without so much as a goodbye. Steve hopes that Clint is upstairs in their shared apartment, ready to give her whatever amount of comfort she’ll accept. Nat took the first bullet, going through those files so they could focus on Emma. Steve knows it had to have been...hard, impossibly hard, for Natasha to essentially relive her own childhood through a different name and face.

Bucky grabs the first file, lets it fall open in his lap. He only reads for a few seconds before a strangled noise makes its way out of his throat. “Christ,” he rasps, reaching out blindly for Steve, who meets him halfway. 

They read for hours, only pausing for a brief interlude in which Bucky locks himself in the bathroom for two hours.

Emma was never offered medical attention for the asthma attacks, for the bouts of intense fever, for the arrhythmia. She was _studied_ like a lab rat until she passed out or the illness ran its course. Whichever came first. Just to record, for posterity, how fast the serum could fight the symptoms. Gasping for air, begging for help.

No one ever came.

She was kept awake for days, run ragged to increase stamina. Fed through IVs and tubes. Frozen in between training sessions and occasionally when they just didn’t feel like dealing with a child, no matter how beaten into submission that child was. Beaten within an inch of her life in order to study the healing factor, time and time again.

Steve finds out what _bathtime_ used to mean, and he ends up with his head in the toilet, violently throwing up the pasta they had for dinner.

They finish the last file just as the sun starts to rise. Beside Steve, Bucky sits unnaturally still, eyes trained on the floor. For one terrifying, excruciating moment, Steve thinks that maybe it was all too much. That he regressed somewhere during the night and Steve didn’t even fucking _notice_. 

But then Bucky turns his head towards Steve, and his eyes are far from empty. They’re tormented, haunted, red with tears. “Steve,” he chokes out. 

Steve launches himself forward, arms wrapping around Bucky tight enough to burst. Bucky falls against him, face buried into Steve’s neck. He’s shaking, trembling like Steve hasn’t seen in years. Steve holds fast, holds tight. “They can...they can do what they want to me,” Bucky manages to get out, “I don’t care. But her? What did she do? What did she do? She’s a fuckin’ _baby_. She’s _our baby_.”

Steve shakes his head, unable to get the words out. Just presses his face into Bucky’s hair and tries to breathe. Steve’s entire world, the two people he loves more than anything in this godforsaken universe, tortured mercilessly, senselessly. And Steve didn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop it. Didn’t _get there in time_.

Steve’s life has just been a series of _too lates_. Too late to tell Bucky he loved him before he shipped out. Too late to stop Bucky from getting tortured at Azzano, too late to grab him before he fell, too late to stop him from getting taken by HYDRA. Too late to protect his _daughter_.

Too _fuckin’_ late.

Steve holds Bucky as the sun starts to shine through the windows, casting shadows over the files that hold within them Steve’s greatest failure.

In a few hours, Emma will wake up, and Steve will make breakfast. He will pretend he isn’t shattering inside, crumbling under the weight of his mistakes. He will paste on a smile and make a promise to himself that he will die before he lets anything hurt the two people sitting at the kitchen table, tracing syrup smiley faces onto the pancakes.

For now, right now, Steve will hold onto Bucky as tight as he can and try his best to chase the demons away.


End file.
